Common Bond
by Todash
Summary: Post-war story. Hawkeye discovers he's uniquely qualified to help a young patient who's just moved to Crabapple Cove. Slash content, B.J./Hawkeye.


**Common Bond**

_Author's Note:_ I have borrowed the town of Collinsport, Maine, for a mention in this story. It's the fictional setting of the gothic—and classic—soap opera _Dark Shadows_. But don't worry, no vampires here.

* * *

><p>Hawkeye saw the scars almost immediately after the kid took off his shirt. They were hard to miss.<p>

He turned away, pretending to look long and hard for his stethoscope even though he knew exactly where it was. He wanted some time to think. Finally he said casually, "I haven't seen you in here before, have I?"

"Uh, no. My parents and I just moved here the other week. From Collinsport?" After a pause: "It's southeast of Bangor."

Hawkeye nodded, "Sure, I know Collinsport." Having located his stethoscope, he absently warmed the chestpiece with a little rubbing. He smiled at the kid, working his bedside manner for all it was worth. "From one beautiful coastal town to another."

The kid—Matthew, his name was Matthew… Hawkeye was becoming too forgetful of names lately—returned the smile tentatively. "This _is _a nice town," he allowed. "We like it here so far."

They fell into silence as the exam began. Hawkeye gave a listen to Matthew's heart and lungs, all the while trying to figure out how to broach the subject… or even if he should. Yes, as the kid's new physician, he figured he should. It was just a matter of handling it the right way… gently, carefully, with concern and compassion. Normally so surefooted when it came to dealing with patients, Hawkeye felt just a little baffled about how to proceed here. Maybe it hit too close to home…

He stepped back, exchanging the stethoscope for a thermometer. "Bad headaches, you say? How long have you been having them?"

Matthew shrugged. "A few weeks, I guess."

Hawkeye inserted the thermometer into his patient's mouth. "Headaches can be caused by stress," he said.

The kid nodded as if he were thinking, _No kidding, Doc.  
><em>  
>"You been stressed lately, Matthew? More than a 16-year-old kid normally is?"<p>

Matthew shrugged again, made the universal hand signal for "sort of, kind of."

Taking the plunge, Hawkeye said, "Why did you slit your wrists, Matthew?" His voice was soft and tender. He wanted the kid to know he could be trusted, that he would be understanding.

Matthew's eyes shot upward to focus on Hawkeye's face. He didn't look surprised, necessarily… just guarded.

Hawkeye removed the thermometer from Matthew's mouth and read it. "Normal temp," he said. Then he sat down on the table next to the kid, and repeated, "Your wrists. How long ago did you do that?"

At first Matthew only looked down at his shoes and said nothing, but Hawkeye waited him out. Eventually he mumbled, "Couple months ago."

There was nothing else forthcoming, so Hawkeye gently took hold of the boy's left arm and turned it to examine the scar. "Healing well," he said. Another long pause while he tried to figure out what to say next. In the end, it was a simple enough question. "Do you want to tell me what was going on when you did that?"

He was fully prepared for the kid to stand up, put his shirt back on and leave, but perhaps Matthew sensed what most people sensed about Hawkeye: that he cared very deeply about people, that at the very least he would empathize and at the most, he would help if he could.

After a moment, Matthew said, a tremor in his voice, "I really wanted to die. I cut them both—deep—and at that moment, I really wanted to die. But then something happened. There was so much blood and I got scared and something just snapped in me. All of a sudden I wanted to get help, and I went to my aunt's house down the street… 'cause my folks weren't home. She took me to the hospital." He lifted his long lashes and Hawkeye saw the tears in his eyes, threatening to spill over. "At first I wanted to die so bad, and then I didn't."

Hawkeye nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering and his expression sympathetic. The last thing this kid needed to see was somebody judging him. "When you wanted to die… what was going on? Bad breakup? Something going on at school?"

Matthew once again looked down at the floor. He shook his head, but what he said was, "School was awful. It was that… but it wasn't _only _that. It was…"

Hawkeye leaned just a little closer to the boy. Softly: "It was what?"

Matthew was still shaking his head a little. The silence dragged out and Hawkeye could almost feel the pain that this kid lived in, day after day. He seemed beaten down, tired, drained.

"Matthew?" Hawkeye tried again. "It was what?"

The kid began to cry, and swiped a hand across his eyes almost angrily, apparently ashamed of the tears. "I'm not like all the other kids," he managed to say, finally. "And they found out… they knew. And they called me names. A couple of guys hit me."

Even though Matthew hadn't come right out and said the word, Hawkeye instinctively understood.

"You think you're homosexual?"

Amidst the tears and sniffles, Matthew let out a single, bitter laugh. "I don't _think _so… I know so."

Hawkeye nodded, "And your classmates found out… and they made your life a living hell. Have I got the gist of it?"

Matthew nodded, eyes still cast down.

Hawkeye cupped the young man's chin and forced him into eye contact. Gently but firmly, he said, "I understand… more than you think. Trust me when I tell you… it's going to be all right. _You're _going to be all right." He paused for a moment, wanting to pour out a rush of words but unsure exactly how to begin. He could talk on the subject all day, but he didn't have the luxury of time. There were other patients in the waiting room—it was a busy day—and he had to find some way of being effective here, but brief too. Finally he just opened his mouth and stated his truth. "Matthew, I live with the love of my life, and he's a man."

The youngster's eyes grew wide. Hawkeye stood up then, and began to pace a little. Matthew's stare was intense, but he said nothing, perhaps too startled to respond.

Hawkeye continued, "So I understand exactly what you're going through. And I'm not going to insult your intelligence by saying that this is an easy thing to live with, because we both know it's not. But I want you to know that I'm a very happy man, and I know that you can be too. It's going to be difficult at times, but things will get better for you, I'm sure of it." He stopped pacing, looked the kid square in the eye. "I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything—anything at all—and at any time you want. I'll be here for you, I promise you that. Because whatever your parents' reaction has been—"

Matthew finally found his voice, interrupting with, "Actually, they've been OK. I've thrown a lot of stuff at them lately. I think they're still not sure what to make of it all. But they moved me here, to this town, for a new start, so that was… I don't know, it wasn't the reaction I expected. I was relieved when they suggested it." He gave a shrug. "They could be taking all of this a lot worse than they are."

"Good," Hawkeye said, "I'm glad to hear that. You have a good support system. Consider me to be another part of it. Because even if they're the most supportive, understanding parents in the world, they can't relate the way I can. So you come to me when you need me, all right?"

"Yes, sir." It was said with resolve, and Hawkeye knew the kid was getting the message and taking it to heart.

"OK, then." Hawkeye couldn't help it, he glanced up at the clock on the wall. He needed to consider that full waiting room, as much as he might want to sit and talk with Matthew for the rest of the day. "How about we start with you coming over for dinner sometime this weekend? We can talk to our hearts' content then. And you'll get to meet my handsome man, who can be a great cook when he wants to be. You're afraid right now, and confused, and that's understandable. But I want you to know that you can have a happy ending too."

He watched as all of this seemed to sink in to Matthew's head. More than anything, he wanted Matthew to leave here feeling a little less alone, a little less overwhelmed. He'd be damned if he was going to let this kid think suicide was an option. "OK, Dr. Pierce," he finally said with a shy smile. "Dinner sounds real nice."

Hawkeye felt his shoulders relax; until that moment, he hadn't even realized how tense he'd been. "Friday around 6… that OK with you?"

"Yes, sir."

Hawkeye handed the boy his shirt. "As for the headaches, I'm not going to write you a prescription just yet. For now just keep taking aspirin when you need it. Let's see if we can't get your stress level down, and that should ease the headaches, all right?" He made a few notes in Matthew's chart as the kid buttoned up his shirt.

"OK, Dr. Pierce. Thank you so much." He stood up and extended his hand in an oddly formal gesture, considering the secrets that'd just passed between them in this room. Hawkeye shook it with a warm smile. "You've been a big help, I can't even say…"

Hawkeye held up his hand, stopping him. "Don't mention it. We'll see you on Friday. But of course, if you need me before then, you call me." He grabbed a slip of paper and wrote his phone number and address, handed it over.

Matthew was nearly out the door when he stopped and turned. "Dr. Pierce? What's his name?"

"Hmm?"

"Your… uh… your boyfriend." He sounded like he wasn't sure what terminology to use. Hawkeye knew the feeling; half the time, he wasn't sure either.

Hawkeye couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. Just a natural reaction whenever he thought about the guy. "B.J.," he replied, then gave a brief shake of his head. "Just initials for a name, can you believe that? At least, that's what he's always _claimed_. Maybe you can help me get to the bottom of that mystery when you come over."

Matthew laughed, and it sounded so damn good. From tears to laughter in just a few short minutes. "How did you meet him?"

"We served together in the Korean War, at the same hospital," Hawkeye explained as he filed away Matthew's chart. "Kind of weird, huh? The worst thing that ever happened to me turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me… you know what I mean?"

Matthew stood there for a long moment, considering that. He nodded, "Yeah."

Hawkeye gently put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Life's funny that way."

Matthew didn't seem to have a response to that. He nodded again, and waved goodbye as he left the examining room. Hawkeye leaned back against the table, letting out a sigh, relieved that the conversation had gone as well as it had. He could've just as easily lost the kid… said the wrong thing… inadvertently sent him away even more confused and despondent. Luckily he'd managed to hit all the right notes.

If only he could reward himself with a beer. But there were other patients waiting…

* * *

><p>Hawkeye sniffed the air after he stepped into the house. The aroma coming from the kitchen was… B.J. Hunnicutt's Famous Fiery Chili. No doubt about it. Yum.<p>

He hung up his coat and went into the kitchen, coming up behind his boyfriend (today he was using that descriptor, since Matthew had) as he labored over the stove, and circling his arms around his waist. He leaned in, burying his nose in B.J.'s hair, inhaling his scent. "Mmmm," he mumbled against the back of B.J.'s neck. "Food smells good and so do you."

B.J. laughed and Hawkeye felt the vibration as he held on. "Hey, Hawk," he said, turning his head for a quick kiss before getting back to his stirring. "Supper will be ready soon."

"Speaking of which… we'll be having a guest for supper on Friday. A new friend." He was still pressed against B.J.'s back, loving the feeling of the solid man in his arms. "Actually, a patient. Young kid with a lot of shit to work through, but we're going to help him."

Although he was behind B.J., he knew his man was smiling broadly. "Sounds just like the Hawkeye Pierce I know and love. Healer, helper, defender of the downtrodden."

"That's me."

"So what's going on with this kid?"

"I'll tell you all about it over supper," Hawkeye said. "Let me go wash up." Reluctantly, he let go of B.J., but not before planting a soft kiss on the side of his neck. "Have I mentioned lately that I love you?"

"Yeah," B.J. grinned. "You wrote it on the bathroom mirror this morning, in soap. Along with a rather graphic drawing of what I assume you'd like to do tonight after lights out."

Hawkeye laughed, recalling his wicked thoughts that morning, which had manifested as a pornographic drawing on the mirror. "Oh yeah, I have plans all right," he winked as he headed off to the very same bathroom down the hall.

His soapy note was still on the mirror in all its X-rated glory, and B.J. had written in response: _I love you too, you goofball. _There was an arrow to the guy-on-guy picture._ And as for this? Well, you've got a date.  
><em>  
>Hawkeye laughed long and hard as he washed his hands, his eyes going back to the message time and again, getting a kick out of it anew every time. Lord, there was so much to tell young Matthew. For starters, that it didn't matter what the rest of the world thought, all that mattered was following your heart… that love and laughter could erase all kinds of pain… that finding the right person transformed your entire life.<p>

The kid would come around. He and Beej would see to it.

Hawkeye dried his hands and then followed the scent of Fiery Chili back to the kitchen. Damn, life was good.


End file.
